Where The Monsters Go About
by itsraininggummybears237
Summary: I lay in in the cool damp grass gazing at the stars. The stars are my friends, they whisper to me in the night. Nobody but I can hear them. Their mournful songs of chaos and despair, shatter my humanity. For darkness shows the stars, and they remember all.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

I slide silently into a shadow-filled alleyway. My nose crinkles slightly at the smell of wet rat, stale bread, and alchohal. I smooth out my black suit and my face shifts into a calm poker-face as I wait for a mysterious business 'ally'. I can still hear the yells of the Brooklyn newsies and what I assume is the typical chatter going on. I hear footsteps approaching and I gently touch the un-noticible bulge of files I hid safely in my inner suit pocket.

A man of around 30 emerges from around the corner and struts in my direction. As he stops in front of me he gives me a once-over, and I assess him. Average height, pale, almond shaped forest green eyes, a brown bowler hat and a sleek black leather suitcase I assume contains my pay. I pull out the files and he hands me the suitcase. Only now does he glance down at me.

"The King of Brooklyn, or so he likes to call himself, will be found in the docks. Pleasure doing business my lady." He says in a deep, strict voice. I nod and he stalks back around the corner. Then I swing the suitcase up onto a rusted crate and open the case. 2,000 American dollars, all crisp and neatly stacked. A cruel smirk creeps onto my face as I close the suitcase, grasp it, and walk calmly out fo the alley, toward the docks.

As I am sucked into the mid-afternoon crowd I wipe the smirk off my face and re-arrange it into a calm mask. But my lips twitch to form a smirk as the ladies all glare at me and then children point at me. I am used to this so I ignore the looks as I swiftly step onto the docks, ignoring the suspicous eyes of newsies.

I continue walking until I reach whom I assume is the king becaus he is sitting on a pile of crates. As he sees me approach he jumps off the crate he is sitting on and leans calmly against it. About 10 other brute looking newsies form a half circle behind him. They would intimidate any other person but not me. I grew up surrounded by the most wicked men in Italy.

I halt in front of them and the warm summer breeze whips my long ponytail around. "So what da ya think ya is doin goilie?" He says casually as he swivels his gold-tipped cane in his right hand. I swing my case around slowly and reply charmingly, "I am here on business." He smirks and raises an eyebrow as he replies arrogantly "Oh what is ya business?"

"Are you familiar with the Morello Crime Family?" He nods. "Well let's say that our line of work is the same. And since they are currently occupied, I need a group who can assist me that is... effiecient." He looks up at me for the first time and his ice blue eyes twinkle with mock-interest.

"And what would we be assisting wit?" I smirk. "One of mine was very irresponsible and ran away from home. So he must be punished." He nods mock-thoughtfully and steps up close to me and whispers in my ear. "And what's in it fah me goilie?" I open my suitcase and he meerly raises an eyebrow and takes a few steps back.

"Sure we will help ya. But I would also like a little somethin' extra." I close the case and raise an eyebrow. "What else do you want?" His smirk widens even further as he places his rough ink-stained hands on my shoulders and his eyes sparkle with mischief.

"I would like to form an alliance. With you." Both of my eyebrows shoot up before my face twists into a charming grin. "I guess it would be nice to have some more allies over here. Alliance accepted." He spits into his hand and holds it out for mine to shake. Americans are interesting. I spit into mine and firmly shake his hand. "Spot Conlon. King of Brooklyn." He says arrogantly.

"Columbine Battaglia. Caporegime of the Venician Mafia." I say suavely. He cocks his head and studies me for a minute, giving me time to process how much I should tell him. He seems like a great leader and street-smart. But he will have to gain my trust in the next week before Ciiperzi's punishment will be executed.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi! I totally forgot to make an author's note for the first chapter, and since I am lazy I will not go edit one in. So here it is! Since the characters will be traveling a lot (in short periods of time) and other reasons I have decided this fic will be set in an alternate history . I am not sure if it will be steam-punk, but there will be some fantasy because Columbine's mental state is a bit off. I will stop chattering and leave you to your reading! Oh, and please review if you get a chance. I appreciate constructive criticizim.

Chapter 2:

"Follow me Battaglia." Spot's smooth voice orders before he struts off. I follow after him and we walk into a dark space between the lodging house and some stacked crates. He leans against the brick wall and crosses his arms. I stand in front of him, waiting.

"So how exactly are we going to be assistin' ya?" Again the question of how much to intrust in him arises. I will just give him a basic debrief and see if he has any questions. That way I do not have to go out of my way to tell him classified information.

"Federico Ciiperzi was my second in command. Two months ago I sent him on an assignment in Saudi Arabia to deal with some terrorists. He should have taken two weeks at most, but he arrived back last week. We were then informed by reliable sources that the Saudi Arabians were not dealt with. Ciiperzi fled at this news to here. So we need to find him, and... punish him." I finish and he takes a minute to process the information.

"And how would we... punish him?" He asks with a smirk twisting onto his tan face. "Oh do not worry your pretty head. Though I will tell you it will be very," I wink "entertaining." He nods understandingly.

"See ya tomorrow at 6 in ta mornin." He says abrupty before taking the suitcase, walking out and throwing a lazy smirk over his shoulder. I smile too myself. This is going to be interesting. He seems like he will be rather thrilling to work with.

I stoll out if the corner and back onto the docks, ignoring the newsies swimming in the river. Out of the corner of my eye I see the shadow of a newsies jump to another shadow. But I shake my head to clear my mind. I think my uneven sleep patterns are affecting my mind. Sometimes I imagine spirits smiling at me and the sun exploding. Other times I see my teddy bear laughing. I know these are not real though, because they go against reality. And sometimes reality is the only thing I can cling to.

I continue walking for two hours back to the hotel I am staying at, The Morning Dove, in Westchester. The old but jolly doorman smiles as he holds the glass door open. I return the smile and step into the lavender-smelling lobby. I walk up to a secretary who has a delicate face and then whitest blonde hair I have ever seen.

"Hello! Welcome to The Morning Dove! Name?" She says with overwhelming cheer. "Felicita Romani." I say smoothly. She nods and looks at the guest list. "Ah yes Miss. Romani. And you will be staying for 3 weeks?" I nod. "Lovely, here is your key and you are in room 307. Enjoy your stay!" I give her one last fake-smile and walk to the staircase. I go up three flights of stairs and enter into a creme hallway with dark wood floors. I go past a few rooms until I reach 307. I unlock the door and swing it open.

The lights are off so I flick them on and close the door behind me. The room is simple but elegant. Silver bed and vanities, black wood floors, a desk, kitchenette, and a lovely porcelain bathroom. On the bed is my black leather suitcase filled with nessesary items. I look at the clock on the wall, 5:42. I sigh and leave the room to head down to dinner.

Arriving at the in-hotel resturaunt I am seated at a table by a group of people my age. I notice the glances of a few young men and send a regal smile their way. A man with luxurious raven locks winks at me and I have to hold in my disgust.

The menu is in Italian and I decide on my favorite, spaghetti. The waiter eventually gets to my table and asks for my order in a thick Italian accent. I smile brightly at him and reply smoothyl "Avrò gli spaghetti, insalata di Toscana, e sidro frizzante per favore." ("I will have the spaghetti, Tuscany salad, and sparkling cider please.") His round face brights up.

"Ahh! E 'sempre così bello incontrare un altro amico! Sarò subito con il vostro bambino pasto." ("Ahh! It is always so nice to meet another friend! I will be right back with your meal child.") He says excitedly before hurrying off.

I smile until I lock eyes with mister flowing hair. The handsome man winks again, and I realize that he looks Italian. He is dressed in a suit similar to mine except he has a vibrant red tie and mine is black with a silver pin. He smirks before excusing himself and walking over to me. Oh no.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! I have gotten back into Tom and Hermione fanfics so sorry if a bit of those two's personalities seep into this story (mainly Tom's). Anyway all characters will be reacurring. I am not one fore writing about un-neccesary details. Reviews to make me smile?!**

**Chapter 3:**

I swear that man literally floats over to me. He has the unflinching swagger that we all have in the Family, but the Americanized cousins have it a bit overly so. I entwine my hands neatly ontop of the crisp white tablecloth and my lips creep into an insidious smirk as he sits down gracefully in the dark wooden seat opposite of me.

"Valentino De'Vecote. Pleasure to meet you milady." His deep smooth voice glides across the table. "Columbine Battaglia. A pleasure indeed my friend." His eyes flash with an unknown emotion as I give him my hand and he kisses it fluidly without breaking eye contact. I can feel his cool lips smirking against my skin, hinting at his haughty nature. His lips linger for a fee seconds too long before he pulls away and we both melt into a mirrored regal position with hands firmlly clasped on the table.

"May I ask on what business my cousin is here upon?" I raise a light brown eyebrow at him and respond casually "A fleeter has possibly come here." He raises both sculpted eyebrows, "But why would someone of your level be sent out here just to retain a fleeter?"

"He was my second-in-command, and I feel that it is my reponsibility. Plus a I was in the mood for a man-hunt." He snorts elegantly and leans forward, "How can I be of assistaance?" I tap my chin in mock-thought and say casually "Oh your help is not needed. I already have the Brooklyn newsies doing the hunt. But I do look forward to seeing you further." He rolls his dark eyes and pouts playfully," Damn it, I have been bored out of my mind lately. Nothing to do but interragation these days." He winks seductively,"I too look forward to our future work together." I chuckle darkly and he kisses my hand then winks again before returing to his table.

The friendly waiter returns with my meal and leaves with a rather suffocatting hug and a promise to visit the restaurant again. I finish the food in deep thought. I am not exactly sure just how efficient the newsies are. Pedro, my partner, recomended them because he detests the Americano Families. Anyway, I am going to see Conlon tomorrow morning. So why not ask to assess his work? Yes, good idea me, let's ask the King of Brooklyn for permission to stalk him, how about Roosevelt while I am at it?! Oh I will just see what his plans are and then go on from there. Brilliant, why did I not conclude to that before?

I leave a crisp two dollar bill on the table and rise gracefully. I was so emersed in my thoughts that I did not notice De'Vecote and his gang leave. I mentally slap myself for not being aware of my surroundings and stride out into the lobby of the hotel and up to my room.

After unlocking the door and gliding in, I unpack my suitcase and walk to the bathroom to ready for bed. I change out of my black suit and into my long silk nightgown. I untie my thick hair, splash my face with warm water and look into the delicate mirror.

Have you ever noticed you only ever see your face in mirrors or in photos? How do you know that person staring back at yourself is you? What if it is some malicious monster waiting for your destined end date? Waiting for that perfect moment to eat you up.

I shake my head, walk back into the bedroom and crawl under the soft silver covers. Closing my eyes and breathing deeply my thoughts travel to back home in Venice. When I left there was not much going on, just the occasional assasination. Then my thoughts drift back to Conlon. I fall asleep with a light smirk gracing my face.

I wake up breathing heavily and sit up abruptly. I look down at my white knickles clenching the silk sheets. Oddly I don't remember what my supposed nightmare was-. Hot breathes are blown onto my neck amd icy fingers trace patterns on my back. I turn my head around slowly and I see a faceless man with pure white rippling muscles. His only flaw is the sticky something slowly dripping down his pristine. And the sharp dagger embedded into his left chest.

An ear splitting scream echos throughout the room. But I do not know who the screamer could be. The man continues to touch my sweaty back and I shove the body away. I slowly get off the bed and open up my drawer. I find my silver revolver shining in the gleaming moon light and my left hand molds against the familiar metal. Taking a deep breath I turn around and fire at the faceless man. Silence looms as I walk gingerly back to the bed.

Laying on her back is a petite fair blonde girl no older than 5. Clothed in a frilly pink dress that is slowing staining red-. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh nonononono. Shit! My breathing becomes rapid and my lungs catch fire. The room erupts into sweltering flames that seem to be chortling at me. The world spins and I fall to the hard ground.

I blink and the room echos with my heavy breathing. The girl is no longer collapsed upon my bed. The fire no longer burning in my room. My hands release the revolver. I stand on steady feet and survey the room bathed in moonlight. It must have been the Dementor again. He likes to play little games with me.

I clear my mind and climb back into bed. The Dementor used to be my bestfriend growing up. But then as we grew older he got darker and obsessed with finding magic. And one night when we were 11 he just left. Gone with the wind. But lately I have been seeing things. And him. Maybe magic exists after all.


End file.
